


(Gratuitous hurt Buck fic)

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bobby Nash Being a Dad, Drowning, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitalization, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt/Comfort, Prompts Welcome, Some sadness, Whump, smoke inhalation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Oneshots!!! Of Buck being hurt!!!Buck whump and team family!!!1. Smoke inhalation2. Explosion with much disorientation3. Tsunami AU It's Buck who falls in the water. Christopher looks for him. Angst4. Gunshot wound and concerned Eddie5. Allergic reaction on a call
Comments: 22
Kudos: 290





	1. Smoke inhalation

This was not a great moment to feel woozy. Not a great moment to want to cough his lungs out, not a great moment to feel like the last time he’d breathed was ten days ago and his body was now realising and screaming for the oxygen.

The middle of a burning building while he had to go get the family on the top floor was definitely not the moment nor the place to be feeling so utterly shitty. 

Moving up and down fast only made things worse, only made him feel even more poorly, more unstable, unsteady, faint. The world was dancing and was dancing too quickly, the down side getting up, moving in ways it shouldn’t be moving. You didn’t have to be a first responder to know that was what vertigo felt like. And you didn’t have to be a first responder to know it was a bad thing to feel, especially in the midst of a burning building.

There was way too much saliva in his mouth, air was short and Buck knew something was very wrong. He also knew that this was not time and that this was not the place for this. They had to get the family out, as quick as possible, and they had to be whole and focused for that. He had to. He had to be quick, controlled - he had to be all of those things. He couldn’t fall, couldn’t support himself on a wall (they were burning for god’s sakes), he had to be fast and strong and all those qualities that made him a good firefighter.

He couldn’t fail the team. Not again.

It was hard, though. The world was tilting and the smoke and the heat weren’t helping. The smoke felt overpowering too, and that mask... His brain was sending him signas that he couldn’t breathe, not properly at least, but he wasn’t paying attention. Couldn’t. People’s lives were on the line. People’s lives were more important than his stupid dizziness or vertigo or any other thing. He had to prioritize - and when he did, he was often the last on the list.

It was hard. It was hard because he couldn’t breathe, because every step was too long, too big, too complicated. But he had to get there. He had to save them. Some part of Buck’s brain knew what this was, understood, had an explanation. But his brain was doing funky things now, and he was using all of his concentration to make his body move and carry out the mission.

Despite the cough. Despite the nausea. Despite his airways being seemingly on fire too. He would get to the trapped people and he would get them out and then the world could come undone for all he cared.

Just these few steps, Buck. These people deserve better than some mediocre fire fighter. Just these few steps.

He was coughing too much to be able to speak clearly when he reached the family, but the others could speak. That was good. He took one of the younger kids in his arms and walked back, out of this inferno, towards help. Once he got this kid out and with the others... Once everyone was outside....

There seemed to be colours in odd places. The edges of the walls came nearer and further, and he really couldn’t breathe any more. But he had a mission and he was going to see it through. He wouldn’t fail them, not this family, not the team, not the Captain. No one. He would push through all the pain, all the discomfort, all the dizziness and weakness and deliver this kid and the rest of the family to the medics.

He felt like death. But he kept going.

The world around was burning, he couldn’t breather or speak, but he kept on.

He managed to get them out, he fulfilled his mission.

As he passed the kid to Hen and saw that the whole family was out, he drew a small smile.

And immediately collapsed on the floor, boneless, lifeless, breathless.

**

He is the worst Captain in the world. Maybe even the worst person.

Captain Nash was looking at Buck, this kid who he cared for so much, so deeply... Who he felt as his kid in so many ways. And he... He...

The mask Buck had been given was faulty. There was a leak that allowed smoke in, not serious enough to be noticed easily but enough for steadily and gradual smoke inhalation poisoning to set on the person wearing it. Maybe someone else would have noticed before, done something about how poorly they were feeling, complained.

But Buck... He’d been feeling like a letdown lately, the weakest link. And that was on all of them. So he couldn’t - wouldn’t complain. He had to prove himself, push through, be the hero he remembered being. And he had ignored everything that hurt and kept working, pushed himself, kept working...

Until he stopped breathing. Completely.

The smoke inhalation had ended up resulting on respiratory failure and now Bobby was looking at the young firefighter with a tube down his throat, unconscious, “not out of the woods yet”. The doctors tried to offer comfort saying that the intubation was allowing his body to heal without the extra chore of breathing. It... It wasn’t comforting at all.

Buck was completely still in a bed, it wasn’t sure if he would wake up again, and he had a big tube down his throat that was breathing for him. Because he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t breathing as he left the building.

_“...He’s not breathing...”_

The Captain could hear it when he tried to sleep, when he closed his eyes, clear as a bell.

He’s not breathing. Like a nightmare.

And then he opened the eyes and the nightmare was true. Buck wasn’t breathing.

And he had a fucking tube down his throat.

Some people would say that he looked peaceful. Maybe even joke round that Buck could probably use the rest.

HOW THE FUCK IS HE GOING TO REST WHEN HE HAS A TUBE ON HIS THROAT

Bobby knew that being there constantly, hating every inch of that tube was not helping anyone. He’d taken days off just to be on that bedside, getting angrier with himself, having more vivid nightmares. (Hoping to at least be there when Buck woke up. To hold his hand while they took that tube out. It had to happen, right? He needed to believe that).

But nothing was happening. Nothing.

Just machines beeping and that damn tube, still there.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” Maddie would say, occasionally. “It was an imperceptible fault - no one blames you.”

He blamed himself. He was the Captain, it was his responsibility.

“It doesn’t help him, you beating yourself up like this.” She said, and she was right.

Bobby knew that. Knew that all this guilt and sorrow was not conducive to anything, that it was pointless, and that had he been awake Buck wouldn’t have wanted it. It was stupid, everybody knew it was stupid and yet... Rationalising something didn’t make it hurt less. NO matter how many explanations they gave themselves, no matter how much they told themselves it was stupid it still hurt.

It hurt seeing Buck like that. So pale, so still. No smiles, no jokes, no heroics.

He isn’t breathing.

It hurts.

*

The tube was gone (fuck, did that shit hurt!) and up was up and down was down. The world made more sense now, and just breathing, just living wasn’t such a struggle. The team came and they goofed around.

Some days you need everything and all just to feel alive... Thrills, gratitude, action, love....

And some other days - some other days just a smile and seeing someone awake and breathing was enough to alleviate any hurt.


	2. Explosion

When he comes to, the world hurts, and it makes no sense. 

He doesn't know where he is. He can't tell if it's day or night, if he's inside or outdoors, if he is somewhere familiar. He can't tell if he's standing. 

There's screaming outside, and Buck knows that he's supposed to help. That's why he's there, right? It's his job to help - it always is, always has been. His mission in life is to help others. So without much thought he tries to move towards the screams... And there's an explosion of pain in his head, and the world stop to exist.

-

He wakes up, and doesn't know where he is. There's noise all around him, alarms blaring, people speaking, some moans and some cries. Buck doesn't know much... But knows something bad has happened. 

He closes his eyes again, tries to gather his thoughts. 

He's in pain, that much he knows. There's something in his leg, crossing it from one side to the other. His chest and stomach hurt too, they are one big wound, it seems. And his head... It's swimming. The smallest movement can make the world disappear, and can make everything get blurred.

He's lying facedown against the floor, he realizes, something hard and cold, that hurts his face. A road? He can't tell. He thinks he can see blood out of the corner of his eye. Where is he? What happened? Why can't he help? He wants to help. But he can't move, or everything disappears. 

He wishes he could say something, do something. But he's so tired. Pain is exhausting. 

He closes his eyes.

-

The next time, there are steps coming his way, quick, and someone is calling his name.

"Buck! Oh, god, Buck!" the voice says, and it's a voice that he knows and trusts, and he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled moan.

"We were so worried, honey, when that bomb went off and you were nowhere to be found, but we didn't know... Oh, Buck.."

Hen? It is her, isn't it? At least his head still works enough to remember the voices, and the people, even if every thought hurts. He wants to tell her something, he wants to...

"Are you with me? It's gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine, just..."

The smell of blood and burned flesh suddenly hits him and it's almost too much. He's vaguely aware that he's weakly vomiting, someone moving him around so he doesn't choke. He knows how to do this, and why and when it should be done, but his head can't connect why it's been done to him. Why he is in the wrong end of it. He... He honestly doesn't understand much.

He just knows he's hurting.

People are screaming and he wants to help, but he can't help.

The voice on the background calling his name is getting fainter and fainter.

He's very tired.

He doesn't know where he is, but this... This place will be good enough.

He closes his eyes.

-

He's not on the road anymore, he's against something warm and soft. He's... He's not even on the floor.

He's moving.

Where is he?

"... I know that they've sent all the effectives, but I can't... you said that, and it should be here, but it's not. I can't just wait while..."

Buck knows this voice, too, and is starting to understand what is happening. Eddie is there, and he's not on the floor because Eddie has picked him up and is now carrying him. Bridal carry. Buck feels like he studied this. It would be comfortable if he wasn't in so much pain. 

They are moving, him and Eddie, but Buck doesn't know where they are going, or why. Eddie is upset that some ambulance doesn't arrive, and Buck vaguely wonders if his friend is okay. There's still a strong smell of blood and the pain is back. His face is probably all covered in blood, and chest and stomach hurt very much. So so much.

Ñ

But he can't say.

He wishes he could do something to comfort Eddie, so that he wouldn't be so worried. He wishes he could comfort him, but he only manages to breathe more sharply. He can't help, and it's torture. Buck feels like crying, but...

They are moving, but Buck doesn't know where to, or where they were in the first place. He tries to think... But it's useless.

He hopes whatever is worrying Eddie so much will turn out okay.

He's so tired.

He's exhausted, so he closes his eyes.

-

They are moving him and it hurts.

They are putting him somewhere hard and they are putting needles and Buck doesn't know where he is, and he wants those people to leave him but...

"Buck, hey, Buck, it's all right. It will be over soon."

There's blood on the Captain's uniform and Buck worries, not understanding that it's he the one who's bleeding and staining other people's uniforms. The pain is duller now, but more potent. Almost overwhelming.

"You gotta hang on, you hear me? We'll ger to the hospital in no time and you'll be okay."

Even through the haze in his head, Buck knows the Captain doesn't believe his own words. He wants to chirp out that he's not so bad, but only manages to cough in a dry and painful way.

The alarms in whatever place he is (are they moving? Is hard to tell) hurt his head, but the Captain is saying comforting words, calling him son, and Buck wants to wipe the sadness away, he wants... He wants... His head is going, again. He offers a hand, on a seemingly futile attempt at diminishing the worry in his boss's eyes. It's noisy and painful and....

He is not sure of where he is, but he knows he can't hold on for much longer.

He closes his eyes.

A familiar voice is asking him to stay...

"Stay with me! Hold..."

... But Buck can't stay. He's too tired.

He closes his eyes.

He hopes he can sleep for a very long time.

-

There was a lot of tension in the hospital.

With all the victims from the bombing, the police, the blood and screams. And they... They all saw Buck at one point or other, with his head covered in blood from hitting the road too fast, with shrapnel in his chest and stomach and stray piece of glass from a window impaled in his leg. Hen had found him, her and Eddie had tried to clean him and get him stable, Bobby had been in the ambulance.

They had all seen him unconscious, pale as death, badly injured. They had all seen him too pale and too quiet. And they had all seen those bright blue eyes open and look around, and not recognize anything, nit understand what was happening. They had seen Buck try to reach out only to pass out again.

He'd been too close.

He'd been very badly hurt, and the news from the hospital can be really bad... Athena was bugging everyone in the hospital. Maddie was anxiously rambling to Chim, feeling that she was going to lose her mind if she didn't know anything soon. Their shift was over, so they were all in the hospital, waiting for news, dreading them, feeling they couldn't breathe...

"He's awake." the doctor said, and it sounded like a miracle. "He'll still need to stay here for a couole of days and the head injury will need to be monitored, but we removed the glass and shrapnel and he should make a full recovery."

Everyone breathed as if all the oxygen had suddenly returned to the world. 

There wasn't supposed to be this many visitors with a patient, but they made an exception, so everyone could see him. He was pale, covered in bandages and hooked up to IVs, but... It was him and he was properly awake this time. A banged up ray of sunshine, smiling from a hotel bed. 

"Good to see you awake, man." Eddie said, relief in his eyes and his voice. 

"Yeah, you scared us half to death!" this was Hen, smiling when she saw the young man smiling back. 

Just the mere notion that a smile as bright as that could be gone forever... The memory of his pain-filled eyes, how he tried to reach out but couldn't... Horrors. But best left for another day. Today was a day of victory. Of holding on. 

"... you know where you are?" 

A line from a movie came to his head, suddenly. Home is not a place, it's a people. 

And it that was true, seeing the people around him, a chorus of guiding voices that had guided him through the pain and the confusion... 

" I'm home."

(it was very poetic, but yeah, he did explain that it was a metaphor and he knew he was in the hospital. Still. Pretty poetic) 

The important thing was that he knew where he was and who was with him... And he was alive and recovering and nist importantly, away from any explosives. 


	3. Tsunami AU

Christopher didn't cry all that often, not any more. He was used to being picked at, and he knew loss. He had cried, a lot, for some time, but... Hapoiness always seemed to win. He had his dad, he jad friends, and a life full of adventures ahead.

He was used to life tripping him, and even more used to getting up after a fall. No matter what happened, he got up again, and he continued. Always. And this was something he was proud of, and his dad was proud of, but this...

This was too much. Too much for him to even come back from. Too much for him not to cry.

Buck had drowned. Buck had disappeared and now that he'd found him... 

It all happened in a split second. 

Christopher had looked away for a moment, just one tiny moment as he heard some cries coming from the next street, and suddenly, when he looked back, Buck wasn't there. There had been some splashing, and Chris looked around, not understanding anything. 

Why wouldn't he be there?

It had been Buck who had kept him safe. Shielded him from the horror, from all that water that was going to eat them alive. Buck had made sure that they were safe, that he wasn't stuck screaming for help and barely holding on forever. Even though the situation was totally frightening and the entire world seemed to be falling apart, Buck had made sure that he was okay, that he was in a safe place.

Buck was super important to Chris. Like, almost as much as his did. Buck was fun and he didn't treat him different. Buck was a friend who told him stories and took him places and played with him. Buck always listened, and took him into account.

And there wasn't pity in his voice. Chris didn't recognize it as pity yet, but he knew that there were many adults that spoke to him... Wrong. As if they were sad for him just for being the way he was. He hated that - but there was nothing of the sort with Buck.

Buck was always happy to see him, Buck had things to do, he laughed and smiled, and treated him properly - he cared, and it showed and Christopher loved how he never stopped, how lively the firefighter was.

So this hurt especially. Seeing him still like that.

He'd been looking for him, screaming his name, when a lady came to him and asked him what happened. He explained that his friend was gone, that they needed to find him - and the lady helped. But it was hard, there was so many people...

What if Buck was hurt? Yes, he was strong and brave, but Christopher knew that no matter how much strength one had, sometimes it was inevitable, the getting hurt. And sometimes it was just small and the recovery was quick, but sometimes it was serious. Buck could get hurt too, he knew. He'd been hurt before, in his leg, and they had to call an ambulance for him in the garden party. They hadn't let him see, but, he knew it had been serious.

So he and the lady helping called his name, circling around the area and then...

"BUCK!"

He was lying on the floor, drenched, and his eyes were closed. Someone had their hands his chest, and was pressing and counting. And Buck wasn't waking up. He just lay there, on the floor, wet and bloody and silent and...

He wanted to go to him, but the lady held him close, told him not to look. He started crying. He knew what that meant. 

The world had exploded and started falling apart, but it had been okay because Buck had him and he would always save him. And now... Now... He started crying. Buck couldn't be gone. Not him too. 

The man kept pushing on Buck's chest, but nothing happened, and all the pressing and counting seemed useless. Buck wasn't waking up, no matter how much he tried.

"Come on, kid!" the man said. "Come on, come on, come on!"

A young woman next to him, motioned and said something about taking over and then she started blowing in his mouth and pressing. Maybe she... Maybe she could...

"Please" Christopher asked, through his tears. "He's my friend."

Christopher had other friends, of course, but... Buck was special. He always made him feel better, he had a smile and a... A happy way of living that were just so great. Chrid always looked forward to seeing Buck again, with his bright eyes, please don't go, please, PLEASE Buck don't leace just yet, wake up, come on, you have to wake up, I need you to wake up....

There was a choked wet cough and the woman moved him to his side, and... He was coughing horribly and throwing up water, but he was awake and he had opened his eyes, and no matter how tired and worn he looked, he was awake, and there and not gone and...

Buck was suddenly looking around frantically as he coughed, worried out of his mind and then...

"BUCK!"

He smiled, a tired, half dead but relieved smile. The lady helped him down and Buck hugged him, still coughing but seemingly whole otherwise.

"For a... moment there... I... thought I lost you." the firefighter said, breathless.

Christopher buried himself in Buck's chest, still crying, never wanting to let go. They stayed like that, together, hilding on to each other, while the world started to make a bit more sense. 

Even after Eddie found them and even if he was so so terribly tired, Christopher didn't want to let go. At all.

"Chris, come on."

"Can't he come with us?"

"He probably should be checked out at the hospital, after what happened."

"But..."

"No buts, Buck. You drowned. If you were a victim from a call, would you let yourself go home after that?"

Buck had nothing to answer to that, so he just narrowed his eyes and puffed. And then coughed, not helping his case much. 

"Then we go with Buck." Christopher really wanted to go home and get to his bed, but... He wouldn't be separated. Not yet. Maybe not ever. At least not for a while. 

Eddie didn't fight it too much, slightly happy to have a way to keep an eye on both of them. 

Christopher dried his tears. 

Now his dad was there and Buck was okay. 

The world had broken down, but he could go on, continue. 

No more tears. 

They were going to be okay. 


	4. Gunshot wound

They knew each other, him and police officer Hart, and that's why... For half a second, Eddie had seen the gun being pulled out and had frozen. Because this man was one of their own, perhaps not a friend, but... He had been someone he knew and trusted, why wouldn't he trust him, he was part of the police force, the police were their friends. They were on their side. But not just this once. 

But they caught him, he and Buck, as they went to check if there were more gunshot victims on the top floor they saw him put the drugs in his pants pockets and he... He pulled out his gun and Eddie had been frozen in spot and Buck was... Buck had... He was shot. He was shot on the stomach and he fell on his knees, with a soft, breathy moan. No scream. Just half-silent pain.

And then Eddie's radio sprung to life, with Bobby's voice clearly on it, asking what the hell had happened. 

But Hart had his gun pointed to Buck's head and was mouthing something like "say nothing".

"Just a gun that went off, possibly some trap for cops. But don't worry, we're fine."

Bobby's voice came back on. 

"Ok. We have to leave NOW, come down and..."

Hart cocked the gun, approaching it more to Buck's head. The firefighter had his hand on his wound, but even with it the bleeding was copious, with blood on the floor, going down his red drenched hands to the ground.

"Tell them you can't come" Whispered Hart. Eddie had never seen so much malice in someone's eyes.

"Hey, guys, since you're in such a hurry and we've already finished the shift why don't you go back already and we'll catch a cab or something. We'll swing back after to leave the gear."

Bobby didn't think this was orthodox, but he a) was in a hurry and b) trusted Eddie. So he let them stay, and seconds later the sirens and everything was heard and they were leaving.

And now it was just that corrupt man, Buck bleeding badly and him. It's up to you, Eddie. Fix this.

"Hey, Hart, I know you don't want to make this worse. So why don't you put that down, we'll say it was an accident and we won't say anything."

"Yeah, like you'll just forgive me putting a bullet in your friend. I don't think so."

"I will, if you let us go, let me get him to sime medical help."

"No, you won't. You'll blab the moment he's safe. I can't let that happen, not until I report my gun stolen and get myself a nice alibi from when that firefighter was shot. I ain't going down for homicide."

"It doesn't have to be homicide, he doesn't have to die, if you just..."

"Admit to having shot the man while walking in here for my stash? My career will be over, my wife and kids would hate ne and I would kilos of good stuff to bad people. No. He'll die and the investigation will say that there's not enough evidence to convict me, no matter what you say. I wasn't even here. And you won't be able to get out in time."

He took their radios and phonesb(and their gear, in case they had "hidden radios or recording devices") and then he shot Eddie in the ankle, so that he wouldn't be able to tackle, or just take Buck and getting him help.

"I'll come back. If I see it won't work... I'll come back for the both of you."

Eddie could do nothing as he watched the man leave. No, no, no, no.

Buck wasn't doing good. He was looking even paler than usual, his breathing laboured and loud. Eddie helped him sit back against the wall, trying not to think about his own injury. Trying not to think about how screwed they were. They had no communication means, neither of them was whole enough to walk and then police had sealed the building so no ine would walk in... 

Despite everything, Eddie tried to get up, to walk. It was impossible. He just feel over, prompting a concerned grunt from the half-conscious firefighter behind him. If je couldn't carry himself, much less Buck. Shit. Focus, Eddie. The wounds.

He made a makeshift pressure bandage with a piece of his undershirt and thought he'd done a good job on his ankle. The bullet had passed straight through, so it was one less thing to worry about (when would he be able to walk normally again that was something else).

In seconds he was with Buck again. The pool of blood under him was too big, he was listless, his head moving from one side to the other. Don't go. Please, Buck, don't go.

Eddie put pressure on the wound, bandaging it like he did his own, with the rest of the shirt, strong and determined, and Buck's eyes flew open, a scream of pain was drowned in his throat.

"Buck?"

There was something in the lines of "agony" and "can't do it" and Eddie's eyes were tearing.

"I know, hey, I'm sorry, but I gotta put pressure, you know that."

Still, too much blood was seeping out. He was hurting Buck for nothing, and he was going to lose him and the last thing he would remember was being hurt by a friend...

"Sorry, Buck. I can't walk you out, I can't... If I had seen Hart, you wouldn't..."

There's a weak smile on Buck's eyes.

"S okay. I got... your back."

Buck was so weak already, and there was no one around, no one to help them, no one to hear them.

Eddie screamed for help, and tried to get up again and when he failed je cried. Because he couldn't do anything, and Buck was bleeding out and...

"Eddie... Eddie."

Eddie sat up next to Buck, both bleeding, both hurting, despair setting in.

"If I don't... make it... you tell Christopher I'll miss him, yeah?"

"Buck..." the lump on his throat was so dense and big Eddie couldn't say anything else, just looked at those blue eyes and was overwhelmed by the pain in them.

"I will... miss you too... Of course." was his breathing getting slower? Please god no.

"Sorry, Buck, I...." he was still crying and fuck, he wanted to be more professional but all that blood and Buck looking with such finality in his eyes....

"Is all right. Always... always figured... I'd die... young."

Somehow, hearing the word hurt even more.

"You are not dying! You can't, Buck. We need you. You just gotta hild on. Someone will come."

"...sleepy..."

"Buck, no. Buck, keep those eyes open! BUCK!"

*

Something had been wrong, Bobby knew. They should have left Buck and Eddie there, in that building - now they weren't answering. It was... It was wrong.

The others joked that maybe they wanted some alone time, but Bobby had a bad feeling. He called Athena, told her to have some teams at the ready.

She went there, hoping to find nothing, hoping that Bobby was just overreacting... No such luck.

"Hello?"

"Athena!" Eddie's panicked voice came. "Call an ambulance! A mobile ICU! Buck badly hurt!"

She did that before anything and then raced to the place where the voice had originated.

"Shit."

They were in the floor, against a wall, covered in Buck's blood, with the blonde man unconscious and way too pale.

"Did you call? I don't think he has much time."

"I did. But I'm going to call another for you, yeah? That foot looks like it hurts."

Eddie breathed. Now they just had to wait for the help.

It wasn't easy, letting go of Buck, not knowing what would happen to him, but Eddie knew it was for the best. They would help him. He would be okay. And he would also get the smell of the blood of this person who had taken a bullet for him out of his skin.

He closed his eyes. He breathed. 

The next couple hours happened in a daze. They went to the hospital, they looked at his foot, disinfected it, bandaged it. He asked about Buck. No one knew anything yet. He was about to lose his mind. 

Then Christopher came, and things were a bit less bad. He fell asleep, and dreamt about waterfalls of blood, possibly because of pain medication or because he'd just lived through serious trauma. Good thing was, when he woke up Buck was already out of danger and a few hours later he was ready to get visitors. 

Good. 

"You" he started, serious as he'd ever been. "we have to talk."

Buck was.... Surprised on his hospital bed. He was injured, shouldn't he be coddled? Said nice things? What was so serious that they needed to talk about? 

"What the hell is that about dying young?" 

Oh, yikes. 

Would Eddie tell if he pretended to pass out again? 


	5. Allergic reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by meanxruki

It shouldn't have been something big. It was only a nuisance, right. A smallnbug in the rig, just as they weren't going to a call. Damned wasps, so useless, just buzzing around and giving nothing to humanity but horrors and mild annoyance. No one took wasps seriously, and Buck hadn't known.

If he'd known he would have brought something for it, if he'd known he wouldn't have gone so gladly down the edge of the front of the house. There had been some cave ins in the building, and it was too unstable for them to go in without risking more building falling down, so they had to get the survivors through the window.

And yeah, Buck was feeling a bit odd, with some itching on his arm and some mild shortness of breath, but surely it was nothing, maybe just because of the heat. He'd have to remember to wear more sunscreen next time. Definitely not something to worry about, much less stop working.

So he was secured and about to go down when the itching feeling got worse, when he started to wheeze. Boy was breathing getting hard - as if his throat was closing in on him. Huh. Swallowing, just saliva kind of hurt too. But no matter, he would deal with that after these people were safe. Thqt was the main priority.

But it was hard. It was hard to speak to the the two girls next to the window. Hard to move even, and now the skin in his arm was not just itching, but burning. Huh, he was feeling even more faint now, even dizzier. But he couldn't show it.

These girls were in the verge if panic, these girls had seen and felt the building they building they were collapse, fall piece by piece and they may have lost people in it too. And now they had to be rescued through the air, which was dangerous and scary on its own... So Buck had to and would be, a professional.

He ignored the burning in his arm, ignored the sudden nausea, ignored the light-headedness. If he couldn't talk properly because his throat was misbehaving then he would just offer his hand and a kind smile. He was a good firefighter. He could and would do this - but the moment those girls were safe... This pretence if being okay was going to fall apart.

He'd played his role convincingly, though. Neither the rescued girls nor his team mates had noticed anything out of the ordinary going on with him. He went down, he wss careful and he helped the victims. Ol' reliable Buck. But the moment the second girl was safe...

He let go.

He stopped breathing, his airways too tight for any breath to pass.

He closed his eyes and lost consciousness, his blood pressure too low for him to keep awake.

And so he was left there, dangling on the air, only being held by his harness. Dangerously close to hitting the building as he was moved by the wind.

There was a chorus of gasps and calls for him:

"BUCK!"

"Oh my God, the firefighter passed out in the air!! Someone help him!!"

It was a delicate maneuver, because they were afraid to jostle Buck too much, because they had the increasing wind to think of, because hitting his head against the building at that speed could be fatal. And so they lowered him carefully, each second lasting an eternity, each second being too long.

What could have happened? Buck was okay, this morning, hell he was okay in the way there. The members of the team looked in their memories for any signs of illness but nothing came to mind. Buck had been fine. So what on Earth made him pass out in mid-air?

Why it had happened was not the most important thing, though. The most important part was getting him awake again. Which didn't look easy. At all.

"I don't think he's breathing! His airways are swollen but..."

His airways were swollen shut and his blood pressure was ridiculously low and why was... And then Eddie saw. In his arm, red hives around what looked like an insect sting. Shit shit shit.

"The wasp" he breathed out, suddenly realizing what this may be.

"There was nothing in his file." Bobby said. He would have taken that into account, he would have prepared....

"Maybe he didn't know." Eddie said, feeling defeated, feeling defenseless. Buck looked so pale, so far gone already, and the fact that he'd been unconscious all this because of an allergic reaction... It was serious. It was anaphylaxis and people died from and he was trained for this but... But...

"Where the fuck is the epinephrine??" Hen screamed, looking through, suddenly feeling blind. Buck wasn't breathing, WASN'T BREATHING and that dned thing was not where it was supposed to be. "Does someone have an epipen? Guys?"

They looked in each one's bag but everything was gone or spent ans Buck was... Buck was fading, pale except for the redness in his arm, quiet, still... This was not Buck. This couldn't be Buck, who had lived through a fucking tsunami and now was being defeated by a damn wasp?

"An Epipen, somebody?"

A hand shot out, a hand full of grime and dirt - one of the girls from the house.

"I don't know if it broke but there should... Still be..."

"Thanks, darling."

Bobby took and knowing there was no time just dug the damn thing on Buck's thigh holding his breath until he knew that it had worked that they had saved him....

For a moment, nothing happened. Bobby's lower lip was trembling, Hen was actively shaking her head and a couple of tears started falling down Eddie's cheeks.

It seemed that the wasp had won.

But it hadn't.

Buck opened his eyes, took a deep breath, coughed at the sudden intake of air.

The others could breathe too. Now the tears were of joy. Now everything... Everything was gonna be fine.

Buck was taken to the hospital for observation, and they found out that ni, he hadn't known he was allergic, much less so severely. Epinephrine was distributed around the team and it became like house keys or the phone, something that one always took with them.

Oh and they became sworn enemies of wasps. 


	6. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Starrylizard

Hen had been working with that boy since he appeared for the first time with a big smile and bright a bit too rash back then, and let’s face, a bit of an idiot. Immature was the better word, perhaps. He had never stupid, but he had a tendency not to think things through and that had gotten him in trouble more than once. Or twice. But things had changed, and he had changed too.

He had grown up, knowing that if he wanted to keep this job what little people he felt he felt were family he needed to step up, be better. And he had become better, although sometimes it was difficult for him - he had become an irreplaceable member of the team, someone they could rely on, trustworthy and knowledgeable. But good things never last, do they?

A lot of bad shit had happened to him (the truck, the tsunami...) and suddenly, they couldn’t trust him again. Suddenly he could be, and in fact was, replaced. Which was absolute bullshit. Buck felt betrayed, and then they felt betrayed by him and it felt that their little family was going to dissolve like a plastic chair in a poodle of acid (slowly, but surely).

So when Buck did come back he felt he was in uncertain land. There was tension in the beginning and when they to go back to some semblance of what things used to be, Buck was holding on to that desperately. With all his strength, all his might. He worked hard, he tried not to meddle in anyone’s business, he was a great worker. He couldn’t fuck up, couldn’t do anything that wasn’t orders, and could not, under any circumstances, get sick.

If he got sick they would kick him out again, they would replace him again, and all the he’d work so hard would be gone, who knew for how long, possibly forever. He remembered the days before the tsunami, when he had no purpose, when he felt he had no one (they were all busy saving the world WITHOUT HIM) and felt shivers just thinking about it. So he knew that he could never ever ever be sick or injured again. His very existence depended on it.

Alas, none of us are immune to Earth’s rich microlife, and Buck did get sick occasionally, despite himself and his bog efforts not to have that happened. In which case, to avoid being forgotten and replaced... He hid. Hid his sickness, hid his symptoms acted as the most healthiest person in the world. He was careful not to be too close to the others not to give them any bugs, but other than that he was the same old Buck, jokes and all. He even wore make up to mask the pallor. It was almost impossible to detect.

But just almost.

“Hey Buck,” Hen said. “Why don’t I give you a ride home? I have these new leather seats and I need a white boy’s opinion of them.”

Buck looked puzzled, but was way too tired to come up with a decent excuse.

“Sure, I guess.” Not the most coherent sentence, was it? But who cared. He just wanted to get home and throw himself on the couch for the net million years. Pretending to be okay when his head hurt so much and he felt so cold was an exhausting chore, and they had quite an eventful day on top of that. So leather seats didn’t sound too long, even if that meant’ he’d have to keep his pretence longer.

As it turned out, he didn’t.

“I know you’re sick.” Hen said shortly after getting on the road. “You’re very good at hiding it, but I can tell. I can always tell.”

Buck looked at her with heartbreakingly sad blue eyes.

“I can’t be sick, please...”

“Don’t you worry, Buckaroo, I won’t tell the others. Your secret’s safe with me.” For now, she thought, but didn’t say anything. That could wait.

The most important thing now was that Buck was looked after, and that he put his effort on getting better rather than hiding how poorly he felt. And for that, he needed to feel safe - which thankfully he did with her.

She helped him to bed after he changed into pjs and quickly made soup, prepared cold compresses, the works. The fever hadn’t seemed too bad when they left the station, but it had got worse on the ride home, and it got even worse.

“Aaah, baby boy, you’re burning up.” Hen said, mostly to herself, as her friend was caught in restless sleep.

And that he was, feverish, pale as a ghost, all covered in cold sweat. She cleaned his face and neck with towels and warm water, but it didn’t seem to help much. He was still burning up, his skin too hot and dry, mumbling still with his eyes closed. Hen wanted to be angry at him because she knew that if he had just called in sick the situation wouldn’t be so serious, but could not find it her to be angry. At all.

Not when he looked so young and vulnerable, only half aware of what was going on around him, with those big teary eyes, just positively miserable. She would not give him a hard time, not at least until he was completely recovered and he knew that she had his back no matter what. He’d become so insecure about his place on the team, even if he hid that too, and she wanted him to know that he had an ally.

Because he did. Buck was like a little brother to her, troublesome but oh so very lovable. And seeing him like this just plain broke her heart.

As the night progressed Buck only got worse, calling out for Christopher, calling out for Maddie, even for her and Bobby at some point. And Hen was there to shush him, let him know it was ok, say some kind words, occasionally coerce him into some water so he wouldn’t get dehydrated.

“You shouldn’t work yourself so hard, Buckaroo.” she whispered, running her thumb through his pale and sweaty cheek. “It’s not just you that it hurts.

She took the next day off and called Karen to let her know she couldn’t come home just yet. Karen just sent her love and well wishes - they may not be as close, but she cared for Buck a great deal too.

The next morning his fever didn’t go down as much as it should have, and Hen briefly considered taking him to a hospital to avoid any further complications. But Buck would take that as a betrayal, and there would be a record and maybe he would be ordered to take (yet another) sick leave so... No.

He had a long weekend to recover and with her expert care he would be right as rain by Saturday, Hen had no doubt. He was just a bit worse for wear because he’d been working while sick, but he could recover, he could pull trough by himself.

After a fuzzy morning and a worse evening (whimpers, night terrors, sobbing till he threw up...) he started recovering at night. They watched some terrible 90s comedy and Buck even managed half a bowl of soup.

They would have a talk, the two of them. About not outdoing oneself, about recovering trust, about knowing his limits and not being afraid of being sick and showing it. It would be a serious talk and it wouldn’t end until she was convinced that he would indeed look after himself better and not pull off something like this, which have been almost madness, definitely damaging.

But it could wait, and it would wait. For now, Hen was glad to have had an occasion to mom him a bit, show him she cared, that he didn’t have to worry so much.

That he was loved and that he had people, even when he was sick.

**Author's Note:**

> You know you want to comment!
> 
> Also prompts welcome! Send me an injury/illness and I shall writeee (non shippy stuff prefered)
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!


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